I write tonight, and for the first time, I write because I want to, not because I have to. I WANT to tell you. Words are having a party in my heart, or maybe in my head. I can’t exactly tell at the moment I’m sorry but it’s so loud, they’re so loud. They’re dancing, singing, drinking & jumping around. Perhaps they’ll go silent in an hour, or twenty four or maybe in a week or much more, but tonight, they’re happy. Tonight, they celebrate the beauty & wonder that is them. And assuredly unbothered, tonight, I stay up with them, to gaze & admire.
I wanted to fall in love with a writer. A man who with the use of words alone, could make me fall in love with him & everything he is & isn’t. A man who can reintroduce life to me. A man who can picture my flaws in a way that would make me & anyone who gets the chance to read his words, fall in love with them. But instead, I fell in love with a man who knows not the impact of fabricated & exaggerated expressions on my soul or any other word loving soul. A simple man who uses simple words to express his love to me.
It’s the way he looks at me. The way the simple words he utters radiate sincerity. The way he knew, long before I did, that we belong to one another. And the way he became what I needed him to be; A best-friend when a friend was all I needed and a lover when I realized it was what I wanted.
How this man came to be in my life is still a mystery to me. It was like he tripped over & fell into it (and boy am I glad he did). This man made me love love & root for it. He might not be a man of words but a man of actions he is.
Sometimes, words flow in my mind, find each other & share a beautiful dance, one that I’d like to share & remember but, when I try to do just that, the words disappear. The music stops & they all find places to hide. I try to force them out of their hidings. I play the music & beg them to repeat what they just did but they refuse.
But finally, at the pressure of my request, they do it. They repeat the dance but it doesn’t look as beautiful as it did first. Not as captivating. Not as smooth. It looks forced & unnatural. It does to me at least.
It’s like the words are afraid of ‘forever’. Afraid of being exposed & looked at so openly by whoever & for whatever duration of time.
Maybe they’re afraid of being imprisoned by the edges of a small piece of paper. A piece of paper that could easily be thrown in a trash can, or worse, fall in the hands of a person who had never fallen in love with words. A person who’d look at them dancing while being deaf to the music they’re dancing to. Or maybe not notice they’re dancing at all.